Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SEVEN
Runa
There was something a little nostalgic about the game center. Flashing lights, the music, the sounds from the machines, the smell of pizza and cotton candy, the cheers as people won.
It reminded me in a small way of the night I’d met York.
Instead of playing to try to win a silly capybara plush, though, I was standing back holding three of Denny’s stuffed animals as she and York went from machine to machine. Until they got to Skee-Ball machine. Denny was in love with it.
And watching York show her how to throw the ball so it didn’t bounce or jump made my heart do all the bouncing and jumping instead.
I hadn’t anticipated how much it would impact me to see Runa with her father. I’d given them meeting some thought over the years, of course. But I think when I imagined it in my mind, I worried more about the ways it could go wrong—him not wanting her, being mean to her, making promises he didn’t keep. I hadn’t spent much time thinking about how it might go right. Or how good that would feel.
It was impossible to be a single parent and not think about the what-ifs. What if I got sick? What if I got hurt? What if I died? What would happen to my baby with no close family to take care of her? Would she wind up in the system? Would she be one of the lucky kids who got a loving home, or would she age out of the system with no family, or—worse yet—would she end up in an abusive family?
The whole death thing had been heavy on my mind for obvious reasons. Reasons that still hurt if I ran my hand over my ribs or turned too fast.
Knowing that if I died the horrific death that was seeming more and more likely lately, that Denali would still have one loving, attentive parent, that was an unexpected weight off.
It was a topic I was going to need to broach with York sooner or later. But I was enjoying seeing them interact, watching my little girl not just have a good time, but connect with her father too much to ruin it with a serious adult conversation.
I was just going to have to stay in the area long enough to find time to have that difficult discussion.
I had a lead on a job. It was just one rental cleaning job, but it was a deep clean. I low-balled the client at just two hundred, wanting to scoop the job out from under those who might pay what the job was really worth—which was more than double that. But I needed money fast. That would get me solvent for a little bit. And, hey, if that client owned other properties, I might secure myself a job doing cleanings between bookings for more consistent pay.
“You alright?” a deep voice asked, making me jolt and realize York must have been talking to me.
“Sorry. Spaced out for a minute. What’s up? Are you all done?”
“We’re getting pizza!”
“Oh, fun! I love pizza.”
“It might not be New York pizza, but I don’t think she has a particular palate,” York said.
“She’s going to dunk it in ranch, so I’d say you’re right,” I told him.
As we sat, Denny got distracted arranging her stuffed animals and talking to them, so York looked over at me.
“After this, I was wondering if you two would come with me somewhere real quick.”
“Can we?” Denny, not seeming to pay attention but clearly hearing everything, called.
“Sure,” I agreed, figuring he had plans for ice cream or some other shopping spree.
But after bellies were full, bumper cars were knocked together, rock walls were climbed, axes were thrown, laser tag was played, and tickets were turned in for a massive stuffed dinosaur, we loaded in our car to follow York on his motorcycle back toward Golden Glades.
Instead of going back to his house, or an ice cream shop or store, we pulled into an apartment complex. One of those big ones full of identical buildings that must make it impossible for delivery drivers to find the right one.
It was on the new end with nice landscaping and a big kids’ playground to the side.
“I thought York lived at the house with the tortoise and big bird.”
“I think he does. I’m not sure what we’re doing here,” I said. “Stay in your seat for a minute, munchkin,” I said as I climbed out and walked over to where York was pulling off his helmet. “York, what is this? Why are we here?”
As an answer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys.
“What’s this?” I asked, ignoring the lurch in my chest, trying to remind myself that people didn’t get other people apartments. I was obviously misreading this.